Overcoming The Past
by UnattainableJoy
Summary: Bella is a 17 year old girl struggling with her past. She has turned to self-injury in attempt to escape the raw emotions that eat away at her daily. After being sent to stay at a psychiatric institution, Bella meets the dangerous, arrogant, and cold-hearted Edward Cullen. Bella is trying to piece together the past, while Edward is running from his, harboring his own secrets. ExB
1. Chapter One

Hello everyone. This is not my first time on the wonderful site of Fanfiction, but it is indeed my first time writing under the Twilight section. I have not written and published any of my work onto a public site in years, thus I am a little nervous to get back into the swing of things and receive all of you incredible individuals' feedback. So please bear with me as I start this journey and unfold these characters and their storylines before you all.

I do not own any of S.M.'s characters.

Extended Summary: Bella Swan is a seventeen year old girl struggling with her past. She has turned to self-injury in attempt to escape the raw emotions that eat away at her daily. Afraid that one of these times she will actually take her own life, like her mother, Bella's father sends her to a psychiatric institution to receive help. During her stay at the institution, she meets dangerous, arrogant, and cold-hearted Edward Cullen. As much as Bella wants to distance herself from Edward, she continually finds herself being drawn to the gorgeous green-eyed boy. Bella is trying to piece together the past, while Edward is running from his, harboring his own secrets. As they begin to grow and help one another, they just may begin to fall in love through their journey of overcoming the past.

Xxx

Chapter One: Bella's POV

_A young girl padded down the stairs quietly in her puffy, purple slippers, and made her way towards a soft glow of light guiding her to the kitchen. The little girl stopped in her tracks mortified at the sight in front of her. Her mother stood in the middle of the kitchen with a knife; her right hand tightly gripped the end. The girl, no older than nine, was confused at what her mother was doing. Hesitantly she spoke just above a whisper, "Mom…?"_

_Tired, defeated eyes were pulled from their haze. The older woman looked up in shock to see her daughter standing there. Tears began to fill the woman's eyes when she could not think of what to say. After what seemed like forever as the two stood there motionless, "I love you, my little Bella," was quietly spoken from the mother before she drew a deep cut across her wrist and repeated the same act to her right wrist. Deep red blood spurted across the glossy linoleum floor._

_Bella was horrified at what her mother had just done; tears began to blur her vision. As horrendous as her mother's actions were, she looked almost at peace—maybe even happy._

_Bella dropped to her knees next to her mother's body, unphased by the blood soaking through the thin robe she wore over her pajamas. The mother weakly raised her hand to her daughter's small face and gave her a pitiful smile. "Bella dear, I love you, you know that? … Don't call Daddy. Mommy will be fine; it's just merely a scratch."_

_The young girl's eyes grew wide with doubt as she watched the blood flow, gushing consistently out of her mother's petite wrists. The mother smiled and weakly muttered out, "I'll be fine in no time–go back upstairs until your dad comes home, sweetie."_

_Bella reluctantly pulled away from her mom not wanting to leave her side, but silently obeyed her mother's orders and ran up to her room. The small girl laid on her bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Soon everything became a blur. Officers rushed into her home. Sirens blared loudly cutting through the quiet night. Her father's voice, coarse and filled with panic, yelled her name repeatedly. Investigators and policemen littered the scene. A tall man with wispy blonde hair carried a clear bag. Inside it was the knife, blood crusted and dried on it. She squeezed her eyes shut and looked away. The small girl pushed past the tall men and through the small crowd of personnel to barely catch the sight of her mom's body being zipped up in a white body bag…_

"No!" My voice pierced through the darkness, my heart pounded quickly; there was a possibility that it may have plunged out of my chest. I took in deep jagged breaths in attempt to calm myself. That dream–no, nightmare–over and over, night after night, played through my head. It had been nearly a month since I had suffered from that awful nightmare and now the cycle decided it was time to start over again. I pressed my cool palms to my sweaty forehead. The room seemed as if it were spinning… _Don't call Daddy. Mommy will be fine_. Guilt wrenched my heart until I felt it nearly impossible to breathe. Was I _that_ stupid? Was I _that_ naïve? I should have called him. I hated myself for always obeying.

Pain. It consumed me completely. It pulsed through my body, only becoming stronger as it fed off the old memories I tried so desperately to forget. Images from that night swirled through my head making it impossible to escape. Dad continually told me it had not been my fault in any way, that it was Mom's decision to take her own life. I cannot accept the fact though, that my mother would purposefully take her own life. It was my fault for not staying with her when she needed me. It was my fault for not calling my dad. If I would have stayed with her, then maybe she would still be here now. Maybe.

My stomach twisted sickly at the thoughts and memories of the whole situation. Anger, pain, sorrow, frustration: it all ran through me at full stream. I hated feeling this way, I hated myself. The only thing I wanted was the feeling of relief… or was it just to be numb? Either way, it felt a hell of a lot better than what I was feeling now.

I pushed myself off the queen sized bed and hurried to the connected bathroom. This being convenient because my dad liked to leave his clothes and toiletries sit around, I on the other hand was more of a tidy person. Also, the more important factor was that there would be less of a chance of him finding my main tool to my place of escape. My razors.

I fell to the tile floor and pulled out the bottom drawer; in the back was a wooden box that sat on the floor underneath the drawer, small enough to allow the drawer to still close. Quickly, I opened the box's lid and pulled out a razor from the large stash that had slowly grown over the last couple years. Right hand perfectly steady, the razor was lowered to my pale skin. I added pressure. Soon a small slit of red was visible and became a long line that stretched across my wrist. As the blood slowly oozed out, so did the emotions. No more anger. No more sorrow. No more frustration or pain. Just numbness.

I leaned my head back against the door and sat there, still for a moment. Warm wetness traveled slowly down the side of my hand onto the tile floor. The feeling of nothing was the most perfect state to linger in, even if it only lasted for a short while. I glanced around to spot the small white box and grabbed it. Picking it up on the wrong end caused all the Band-Aids to fall out; my eyebrows furrowed as I bit my lip in frustration. Using my right hand to quickly shuffle the stranded Band-Aids into a small pile, I picked one up and pressed it over the fresh cut before hiding all evidence.

Once everything was cleaned and put back in place, I slowly made my way back over to the recently abandoned bed and laid back down; the covers still faintly held the warmth from my body heat. Minutes began to slip past as my lower arm started to lightly throb. I must have cut deeper than intended. Images from that horrid night began to creep back into my mind; I could never really figure out one thing. My mother had cut herself eight years ago, she was taking her life, but she looked so happy. I never really understood why. I felt a pang of jealousy of how content she was those last seconds of her life. I had not felt truly happy since the day she died. She was who I looked up to, who I counted on, who I trusted, and now she was gone.

Seventeen years old now, it had been two years since I cut for the first time and I had yet to feel the way she had just once. I originally started because I had wanted to know so badly what it was like to feel as she did. I wanted to see for myself if that short moment of happiness was really worth leaving your family behind for—leaving them forever hurt and broken. After a while though, I gave up on the cause that had gotten me started. At that point, I think I gave up on many things. But in that same moment, cutting became my addiction. It also became my weakness.

Xxx

Well that unfortunately is all for the first chapter. It was a bit short, yes. It felt appropriate to end here. Do not fret though; we most definitely will be meeting Edward in the next chapter. Thank you all again so much for taking the time to read this story. I really do hope you enjoy it and stick around!

Please leave a review . Let me know what you think.

KC.


	2. Chapter Two

Hello everyone; a huge thank you goes to all of you who took the time to read my story and an even bigger THANKS to those of you who left reviews. I made sure to take the time to reply to each of you who were very kind to leave feedback. It was very much appreciate and frankly made my day.

I plan to mainly only alternate between Edward and Bella's POVs, but just this once I wanted to start out in Esme's POV.

This is chapter is essentially meant to set up the background of Edward. We are moving a little slow, but still trying to keep the interest going—I don't want to rush too quickly into it. I also did my best to write this chapter a little longer than the first. I hope you all enjoy it!

All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer.

Xxx

Chapter Two

Esme's POV

The soft click of my heels echoed as my feet paced back and forth in the lobby of the courthouse. Again, we had to come here and _again_ it was because of my son. Now, thinking of Edward, I quickly glanced over to him. He was seated in one of the heavy oak chairs, eyes shut while listening to his iPod–whatever angry band he was listening to blared loudly; the music slightly echoed through the vast, quiet lobby. I walked back over to my previous seat and sat down, giving an exasperated sigh.

My eyes traveled back to my son. He had on a black t-shirt with some band logo across the front with a black hooded-sweater over it, dark washed out jeans, and an old ratty pair of black converse; he refused to allow me to purchase him a new pair and throw out the old. I could hardly recognize him. He did not dress the same, act the same… even his eyes were different. They no longer were the warm, familiar emerald gems as I used to call them. They used to hold and express so much emotion—they were absolutely brilliant. But now those emerald gems held nothing—they were empty and cold. _Now_ there was nothing brilliant about them at all. My eyes slid shut, heart aching for the boy I no longer recognized.

What Edward had done this time…the stunt he pulled…I could not understand it. What had I done wrong as a mother? I had always thought I was doing a well job of mothering him—being a worthy role model. Edward used to be such a great student—he took advanced classes, he was always very sweet and polite to his peers, respectable to people of all ages, played piano since he was three, and possessed so many other positive qualities that added to his character.

My lips curved up into a faint smile at the memories of Edward playing piano. He played flawlessly. Daily, I would sit on the couch that was placed behind the grand piano in our home and just listen to him for hours while he practiced. I would close my eyes and hang on to every beautiful note that rang, resonating throughout the room, making the world seem as if nothing bad could ever happen in that moment. He now has not touched a single key in three years. It broke my heart to pieces. Edward dearly loved to play—his talent was astounding—but one day he changed his mind and swore to never play again. The day he stopped playing… it was the day that—

My mind immediately shut down on that thought. I could not bring myself to reopen wounds that still had yet to fully heal.

Now Edward skipped more classes than he attended, had no respect for anyone, slept with an endless amount of random girls, and was completely wrapped up in with God knows what drugs… A chill slithered through my body at the stranger my once sweet little boy had become.

My eyes ached tiresomely with sadness and disappointment. Today we were here at the court house because Edward had broken into a home and committed grand theft auto. When things could not have been worse, we came to find that the car belonged to Jeff Palmer, my husband Carlisle's colleague at the hospital. The car was found just outside of town with Edward and the Palmers' sixteen year old daughter in the backseat. I was mortified when I had received the call from the head chief at the police department. When I had numbly delivered the news to Carlisle, he was infuriated and ready to strangle our son on the spot.

I rubbed my temples, trying to clear my head of the exploitative act Edward had pulled and thought back to when he was younger. I could easily get caught up in the memories of when Edward as a little boy; the young sweet child I recognized and missed, but was now dead inside of this new man who took my loving son's place.

"_Mom!" A little copper-tinted head came running into the hall from back stage with music sheets still in hand. Esme squatted down, allowing Edward to throw his small arms around her neck._

"_You did an amazing job, honey," she praised with a smile._

_Esme's heart swelled with pride for her son—Edward had just performed a complicated piece that was much advanced for his age level. The instructor of his piano schooling provided a challenge, curious to see how well he could handle a piece four levels higher than what his age group was currently working on. Like always though, Edward surprised them all, mastering the piece by his second time through. He performed it brilliantly at the annual winter concert, which was held in the Performing Arts Center attached to the private school. Even at a young age, his confidence and performance was not wavered by the large audience made up of well over twenty-five hundred people._

_Edward pulled back from the embrace with a glowing smile. He loved pleasing his parents and hearing this from his mother made it all the better. Mr. Cullen nodded agreeing with his wife on their son's breathtaking performance._

_The instructor approached the Cullen's, reaching out to pat the young boy on the back. "Nice work! You did extremely well, Edward. I was surprised, I thought that you would get nervous with that big of an audience, but you played miraculously."_

_Edward beamed and his mother practically melted. "Thank you, Ms. Maggie!"_

_The abnormally tall woman nodded in reply, "This boy is truly gifted." She gave his parents a smile then moved on to the young blonde girl who had performed a piece with the flute._

"_Well, this was a lovely evening," Carlisle announced as he wrapped his arm around his wife and ruffled his son's hair, "Why don't we go out to dinner and celebrate."_

_Edward's small face lit up with a large smile. "Yea!" he yelled, pumping a small fist in the air, "Just hold on, I have to put my music away and grab my coat. I'll be right back!" The boy retreated in excitement, disappearing down the broad hallway._

I was brought from a joyous memory and back to reality when the double doors swung open. Carlisle and our lawyer walked out into the lobby, shook hands, and said their goodbyes. Carlisle held a composed face until the lawyer was back through the double doors, disappearing. Quickly, I fled to my husband's side.

"What did they say? Will he have to spend time in jail?" I blurted out, already beginning to panic.

Carlisle shook his head once and walked pass to our son, I followed him over. Carlisle yanked the ear buds out of Edward's ears and snatched away the iPod. Edward was not in the slightest bit phased. He opened one eye to see his father glaring at him then shut it again. "Get. Up." Carlisle demanded sternly through clenched teeth.

Edward let out an irritated sigh and rolled his eyes. He then stretched his arms above his head, yawning to indicate his boredom. "So, what is it this time, community service? Work at the soup kitchen for the holidays?" He ran a hand carelessly through his unruly hair. "I have to admit though, it better not be the nursing home again—I hate those fucking old people." I gave him a look. The elderly were not exactly first choice of who a teenager would choose to spend their time with, but there was no need to speak of them in an unkindly manner or with a lack of respect.

Carlisle was angered more by our son's carelessness and lack of concern. "No," he responded sharply; there was an edge in his voice. These last few years have been so stressful on both Carlisle and I, with all that Edward has done and put us through. Carlisle used to be so kind hearted and a man of patients, but now he hardly had any patients at all. I put forth my best effort to be optimistic and hopeful that this was just a phase for Edward, but the thought increasingly became less believable as more years slipped away and no signs of change were evident. Edward had changed, thus changing my husband and me along with him and it most certainly did not feel like a change for the better.

"You will be admitted to The Jamieson Estate Institution. The judge says that he's not going to put you to jail, _this time_, but sending you to juvy is getting old. Clearly nothing is getting through to you. So with persistent convincing that your reckless behavior is stemming from the unspeakable incident three years ago, he has finally agreed that this psychiatric institution is your next stop. You're required by court order to stay there for a minimum of four months." I froze in shocked. A psychiatric institution? But he wasn't mentally sick—disturbed, possibly—but he did not suffer from a mental disorder. Not my little boy.

"What?!" Edward yelled, his voice echoing throughout the lobby—the volume and harshness in his voice startled me. I subtly glanced around to check if anyone else was near. No one. Thank God. "You're going to put me in some fucking mental hospital?!"

"Watch your language, and keep your voice down." Carlisle warned sternly. "You are _lucky _that I am a highly known and respected individual in this city with influence. You could have much worse than a psychiatric institution." Carlisle slapped a pamphlet against Edward's chest, "It is a specialized institution for teenagers with disorders or who suffer from traumatization from past events. That's where you fall—lashing out because you don't know how to deal with what has happened in the past. Your mother and I have tried so many things to help you, but you rebel against everything we do. So, you will go there. You're lucky that Jeff dropped the charges, too." Edward rolled his eyes. "You will leave to the institution on the seventeenth."

"December seventeenth? Carlisle, that's before Christmas." The thought of my only child missing our family Christmas caused my heart to ache. Carlisle gave me a sympathetic look then stared coolly at Edward and shook his head, "It doesn't matter, dear. Let's not fool ourselves into believing he would actually be spending Christmas day with us regardless." Carlisle's face was filled with disgust for our son. A smirk appeared on Edward's lips as he rolled his eyes once again. I felt my stomach drop. Who had he become?

Edward dropped the smug look and took over a new expression, "I may have to go there for four months, but my birthday is in April. I'll be eighteen and you won't be able to force me stay there any longer than the date of the court order."

"I am aware of that. If you still happen to be there by the time of your eighteenth birthday, you will be free to leave—that very day, even."

"Oh, believe me, I will. I'll leave this place too; I want to get the hell out of here and away from _you_ as soon as I possibly can." Each and every one of Edward's words hung in the air. Hate extracted from them and intoxicated the atmosphere. Each of his words was an individual stab to my heart.

He shoved the pamphlet back to his father and walked out the doors of the front entrance into the crisp cold air, not caring whether the talk was finished or not. I shot my husband a worried but hurt look. Did our son really not care anymore?—he didn't want to be around us? My throat swelled with tears. Carlisle slid his arm around my waist and followed our troubled son out through the double glass doors of the courthouse. Hopefully for the last time.

Xxx

Edward's POV

I couldn't go to a psychiatric institution. What I'd done wasn't even that bad: just a broken lock on the back door and a missing car–big whoop—they got the car back. My eyes rolled at the thought. I didn't even wreck the damn thing. Plus, the Palmers' daughter so wanted me—who was I to deny her? I looked back to see my parents participating in a heated discussion with one another, which most likely was about me. I ignored the fact that they were even behind me and continued towards the flaunty black Mercedes, owned by my father. I opened the back door; unfortunately we all rode here together, so it was my only ride home. I had no money on me to take a taxi—the bus wasn't even an option. Leaning across the backseat, I grabbed my Monster energy drink I had left in there. After retrieving it, I slammed the door close and walked over to my God forbidden father.

"Give me my iPod," I demanded holding my hand out.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "I will once we get home. There are still things that need to be discussed."

Such a shame home wasn't where I was heading. "I need it. Now." I was losing patients; my nostrils flared as I tried to keep a calm exterior. He was not the only one who could be a hot head in the family. My mother touched his arm and murmured something in his ear. I waited a minute longer, and my dad reluctantly pulled my iPod out of his coat pocket and shoved it in my, still waiting, open palm. As soon as I securely had it, I turned on my heel with my Monster in the other hand and started walking away from the car.

"Where do you think you're going?" My father's voice boomed after me.

I shook my head and shouted back, "Don't worry about it. I'll be home later." I heard him yell something back angrily. Choosing to ignore it, I put the ear buds in my ears, turned the iPod on and cracked open my Monster. The loud music blasted angrily through my eardrums making everything else disappear. The children who ran across the street with an exhausted looking mother in tow, the small snowflakes that began to flutter to the frozen ground again, the busy streets of Seattle that rushed by in a blur—all of it was gone. Just the loud thumping beat of the music against my ears was all I could hear. It was all I wanted to hear, and for now it was good enough.

Xxx

Well that is all for the second chapter. I hope it failed at meeting any of your expectations. Thank you again to the few of you who left reviews. They were greatly appreciated! I know the story may seem to be starting off a little slowly, but I wanted to have a little insight on both Edward and Bella before we dove into them at the institution. Do not worry though—we will get a glance at the institution and a couple new characters next chapter!

Also, I do not know how well rehearsed any of you are on your Twilight knowledge, but if you are I am aware Edward's actual birthday is not in April. I googled it and apparently it is June 10th, but for the sake of this story we are going to make it April 10th instead. Hope you all don't mind too much ;)

Thank you again for reading! Please leave a review—I love receiving feedback from you all and it is wonderful motivation.

Also, I hope you all are keeping safe, depending on where you live. My area in the U.S. is getting hit hard with snow and horrible freezing temperatures. 16 inches of snow, -14 degrees, and a wind chill of -44 degrees... Safe to say I am staying inside with Netflix.

KC.


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